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i want
to see
some people rot in hell
Xant Sep 19
The truth is
what once was yellow brick road
is now red from blood
blotched by dirt
and partly
covered in moss

I see no purpose nor hope
in following this particular road
that leads me back to a place
so called 'home'

It's rather unpromising
and untempting
unwelcoming even
And it makes me think;

At the end of the road,
will I be left to rot
by the people who once swore
that I will be loved
but would leave me standing
forsaken and starving
like they used to do

And so I'd rather stay in Oz
Then to follow the 'yellow brick road'
To get to a place where
I were to be ignored
My high school friend who had a dysfunctional family told me that she would never want to go home ever again.

She sees her family as what was beautiful, now sorrowful.

I could only imagine how her sweet childhood memories (re: yellow brick road) had turned bitter (re: red from blood).

And this poem, I dedicate it to her.
I wish her happiness :)
Priya Gaikwad Sep 11
When someone leaves forever,
A part inside us that belonged to them dies,
Sometimes it's a good part,
Sometimes it's a bad part,
But some leave causing gangrene,
They slowly infect our entire system,
Causing each part of ours to rot and die.
Eaten Alive by Nothing

Surrounded yet alone,
Wasteland of desperation and despair,
Reaping rotting fruit, bloats, gnats, flyblown,
Longing, loneliness is never fair,

Lanterns and candle light to keep you warm,
Dancing shadows morph to devils,
Slitting despair bleeding, breeding ticks that swarm,
They feed and breed into hungry weevils,

Burrowing through chest to feed on carrion of rotting heart,
Also feeding on air from lung,
Heart along in solitude from ventricles shredded apart,
Alienating through truth, be still my lashing tongue,

Friends are always around,
Right until you need,
A lost letter of emotion sent outbound,
Lost but never found, devils take the lead,

Numb, in slowly boiling water like a frog,
Past scars of trauma a curse,
Can only feel so much before a clog,
Until you become cold, psychotic, or worse.

Break out the old smokescreen mask,
Smoke, laugh and smile,
Survivals your only task,
Foot in front of foot until your first mile,

Decaying down to skin and bone,
Each mile a greater distance,
Always harder when you’re alone,
Exhausted, running from the devils persistence,

Until a day you want to be alone
Quarantining spread this plagues fate of hate,
Feeling like happiness is just a loan,
Someone finally listens, too little, too late,

You hug your dark cloud,
With a thirst water doesn’t sate,
Ears covered, anxiety so, so loud,
Take a shot, a smoke, anything to placate,

An infested body no one wants close,
Insect army of traumas and abuses,
Each growing into a lethal dose,
At least for now, I still have my uses,
that drove my mind insane,
diminished peace,
and replaced it with echoing chaos.

that filled my heart with hate,
venom in my veins,
ice in my soul,
fire in my eyes
and bitterness in my tone.

that made those moments rot
in anger wrapping up deceit.
Letting me dwell in darkness,
chaos and pain.

that makes more malice
to my hand.
So, I lay upon you to scourge.

that makes me feel like a villain,
with a prison sentence that never transpires.
Anastasia Jun 6
in an old
old house
there are corpses in the cradles
and an old
delusional woman.
it's reeks of flesh
and baby powder
piled with blood-stained clothes
a "husband" lies
cold in bed
with parts
from "almost-perfect" men
the floor sags
and the stairs creek
the walls echo
with the cooing
of an old
eva-mae May 26
you were toffee to my teeth
initially tasted so sweet
soon sickly, twisted and knotted
to my soul you
stuck and rotted
Renn Powell May 25
i left my happiness out for too long
its beginning to rot away.
i've forgotten how to put it up,
so its just turn to decay.
maybe i should have preserved it.
and never walked away.
but now forever gone,
and i'm the only one to blame.
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